


Pulling the Tail of the Tiger

by AngeNoir



Series: Inktober 2018 [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space Opera, M/M, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Outer Space, Rescue Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-24 23:50:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16185743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/pseuds/AngeNoir
Summary: He might be their prisoner, but Harry's still got a few tricks up his sleeve.And it won't only be him escaping, either.





	Pulling the Tail of the Tiger

Harry walked confidently down the sterile hallway, boots clunking against the ground, the duster he was wearing swirling around his ankles. He looked ever inch an outlaw - a scar graced his chin and eyebrow, his clothing was clearly well-worn, and his green eyes glittered from his dusty face. Even surrounded by four Death Eaters, their wands trained on him, he exuded charisma and energy and he  _knew_ it.

The white of the hallway was almost blinding, and Harry was thankful when they stopped in front of the doors and the hiss of hydraulics meant he was finally going to come face to face with the general of this ship. Not the leader of the Death Eaters - Voldemort, or The-One-Unnamed, would not be here.

Yet. He’d be here soon.

All the more reason to speed things up, he figured.

Striding in past the doors, he made sure to ignore the guards - they didn’t matter, not when it came to this, not when it came to what he needed to get done. It was a receiving room, and so all the top officers would be here.

Right where he wanted them.

General Greyback, the helph of the Bicurian Cluster, loomed on the captain’s chair. The rank-and-file crew were still at the controls of course - they were shooting towards the Haungle Tonne, the battlecraft cruiser that housed Voldemort - but the rest of the members, the officers and their guards, were standing there, staring at him as he entered.

“Harry…  _Potter_ ,” Greyback growled, his lupine muzzle glinting in the harsh light - saliva, or  _some_  fluid, coating his muzzle. “What an interesting guest to get, in this far corner of the Dya Gonn Corridor. You would think you’d stay as far away as you… could get.”

“I live to disappoint,” Harry said calmly.

Greyback leaned forward. As a Weir, from the Reemina Quadrant, he was easily one to two meteres above the standard measurements (then again, Harry himself was almost a third of a metere beneath the standard). His broad, scarred shoulders and white-streaked fur lent to the power of his body and stance.

“You came here…  _deliberately_ ,” he rumbled.

Harry quirked his mouth up in a wry smile. “Got in one, Fenrir. In fact, you might even say… that I got caught on purpose.”

The guards around Harry took another step forward, their wands held at the ready, and Greyback stood up suddenly, a silver cloud glowing around his hand. Weirs didn’t have the magyk the way most other humanoid species did - no, they had a mind-altering skill that could create almost bestial slaves.

But Harry had a trick up his sleeve.

His magyk wasn’t any different than the standard use, of manipulation of ley lines and galaxial energies, but growing up for an extended period of time unable to access any magyk led to him applying the magyk in unconventional manners. It helped that he had the ability to access a lot more at one time than most other humanoids could.

Before any further movement, Harry concentrated his thoughts, flicking his fingers, and as the magyk burst out of his fingers, so too did incantations lash towards him from all sides.

But he hadn’t dropped down, or stayed in one place. He’d jumped  _up_.

With a graceful arc, he dropped down near the door and darted back down the hallway.

He’d gotten to the flight deck, he’d gotten right up near the captain’s chair, and the viral spell he’d activated mentally should have worked. All he needed now was to be as precise as possible with his timing. His team had probably gotten in through an outer exhaust shaft, probably got into the cell block.

Probably. He could hope. Neville was a whiz at identifying organic matter, Hermione skilled at undoing locks, and Cho aces at walking past security measures with not a care in the world. The three of them were the infiltration team; the rest of the crew would be manning the lightweight scouting ship that was piggybacking off the belly of the ship.

Harry was just the distraction, just the bright flashy movements to keep the brass from noticing the blackout happening in the cell blocks below. A quick dart here, a shield incantation there, sniffing out their armory and escape pods and leaving traps and tricks. The battle itself wasn’t the focus - he was counting down the time, looking for the cue that told him the infiltration and rescue team was complete.

It was touch and go, honestly - this was one of his most risky plans he’d ever conceived - but he managed to get out with only minimal damage to his person, dropping down the chute and curling as much galaxial energy around his body as he could as he shot out of the narrow passage and out into space. This was the worst part, the part where he was literally floating in space, waiting for his team to snag him and pull him in to safety.

It was horrible, difficult, and his magykal resources were badly depleted, and it was  _reckless_ , he knew it was reckless, but it was all worth it when he took his first, shivering breath in the medbay of the PhoeNix and looked across the beds to see Draco there, staring imperiously at him.

“You are an idiot,” Draco drawled, and Harry laughed helplessly, breathlessly, so happy to see they had succeeded.


End file.
